Okay
by insaneprincess
Summary: D/Hr. For the 178 Moods Challenge on HPFC. Prompts: okay, drained, flirty, forgotten, weak, broken. "She should have known better, of course. She should have known he could never really change. She should have known he’d break her heart."


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

This is a one-shot for The 178 Moods Challenge by sick-atxxheart on HPFC. My prompts (moods) were: okay, drained, flirty, forgotten, weak, and broken.

Draco/Hermione

:::::

She stared at the table. Do not look up, she told herself, do not look up. It would not be worth it.

But she was a masochist, wasn't she? Was it worth it to look up if it confirmed her fears?

Ron and Harry chatted happily beside her, but she paid them no mind. There was someone else who had captured her attention completely. Of course, they couldn't know that – reason a) being they were completely oblivious, reason b) being that they would completely slaughter her if they knew.

She almost wanted to tell them, too. She was so drained, so empty and worthless. If they only knew how she wasn't completely there right now. If they only knew that she felt like she was dying, that she could truly die any minute if what she had seen was real. If that flirty little slut had really…

But it was dangerous to think that way. Completely dangerous, and completely wrong. Besides who knew if she was actually…

Oh who was she kidding? She knew what she had seen last night. She had seen the Slytherin slut kiss him. She had heard him groan _her_ name. She had seen him see her standing there. She had seen him fumble for words desperately, somehow trying to undo what he'd done, trying to explain something unexplainable. She had felt those tears of betrayal. She had turned and ran. She had stared at the dying fire in the common room until dawn.

She had been forgotten. She should have known better, of course. She should have known he could never really change. She should have known he'd break her heart. She _should have_.

But, of course, being who she was, she had trusted him. She had given him every part of herself, believing that he was misunderstood. He was really a good person; he just needed a second chance. He just needed forgiveness.

Of course, she was wrong, wasn't she? She was a fool, wasn't she? She was a blind, stupid little idiot, wasn't she?

He had reduced her to this weak, empty girl who stared down at the breakfast table without emotion. If he only knew how she'd sat on the couch all night long. She'd sat there, without tears, staring into the fire. She had realized she was the fire – dying in the grate from the very air. Worthless and pointless and helpless.

She lifted her gaze from the table.

She felt like someone had stabbed her. There he was, confident and content as any other day, his grey eyes dancing with amusement, his typical smirk on his face. He looked so perfect, so flawless. And yet, she knew that was not how things went. He was a faker, and no one ever knew who he really was. But she had. For a few illicit, unbelievable months, she had truly known him. But she knew now, she never would again.

It was at this point that he stood up, and she nearly collapsed. Pansy Parkinson, his personal little bitch, stood with him, her arm locked around him. He didn't remove her arm, but smirked at her and whispered something in her ear. At this, she giggled sickeningly.

They walked by her table, and she saw it. For a millisecond, he hesitated. For a millisecond their eyes met, and she was shocked at what she saw. Remorse. Regret. As he turned away from her, she had to question if he was feeling as broken as she was.

She blindly watched him walk away, feeling like this was not enough. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to care. On a deep level, she knew he did. But that was not enough.

"Hermione? Hermione!"

She turned to look at her best friends. How innocent they were. How naïve.

It was Harry, of course. They were both looking at her in concern, but it was Harry who was slightly less oblivious.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

She stared at him. He seemed a little bit blurry. He seemed fuzzy, like he wasn't real. She was locked in his green eyes, but they didn't seem green. They seemed to be grey, a haunting, melancholy grey…

"I'm okay," she whispered, not sure of what she was saying. But these words sounded right as they echoed in her mind, so she said them again. "I'm okay."


End file.
